


Mistaking Hate

by trasharama



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Blowjobs, Dominant Kylo Ren, F/M, Love/Hate, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, but here i am, cowgirl style is the second best style, doggy style is the best style, if you can call it love tho, missionary is a good style too though i guess idk, my god i told myself i wouldnt do this, rivals turned lovers?, smutty mcsmutsmut, writing smut because im a horny fucker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-03-24 22:39:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13820940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trasharama/pseuds/trasharama
Summary: They hate each other, don't they? The constant bickering, the competitive soccer games, the battling for essay points: it's indicative of pure loathing, it has to be, it must be. So what they're doing behind locked doors, it's just their way of releasing that disgust, right?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So welcome to my first smutty facfic. I apologize in advance for its trash. Get your rotten tomatoes ready.

Rey is positively fuming, and even that may be an understatement.

Of course Kylo fucking Ren had to slip his anthropology essay under her nose as he walk past her. He only did it to see the look on her face when she realized he’d gotten three points higher than her, and watching his lips tilt in satisfaction was enough to make Rey go red with explosive anger.

“What’s the matter, Rey?” he’d asked in that sing-song tone. “Oh… did I end up with the higher score after all?”

There was no hesitation, only instinct, as Rey batted a fist into his nose. “Stop talking like a villain, Kylo.”

Which was how she’d ended up in the library, panting behind stacks of bookshelves in the dredges of the musty basement, where she was sure no one, least of all the pretentious Kylo Ren, would find her. At least, that’s what she’d convinced herself of as she ran through the recent memory branded into her eyes. The way a trickle of blood dripped into Kylo’s gaping mouth as she skittered away from him, ignoring his protests and the surprise on her classmate’s faces. There was no situation on earth that could have prepared her for the satisfaction she felt punching Kylo Ren after the last two years of itching desire to do just that.

For every A she got, he was right behind her, surpassing it, even. For every goal she blocked on the girls’ soccer team, he was kicking one past her during their scrimmages with the boys’ team. He was always one-upping her, and she’d finally, finally, managed to scrape her way to the upper hand.

But as giddy as she feels, Rey can’t help the fact that there’s still a boiling anger in the pit of her stomach. Not even the wide grin pasted on her lips can sate that, the rage which simmers at a constant rate so long as she was in a fifty-mile radius of him.

She isn’t sure how she knows it’s him, but when the monster inside of her roars in warning, she spins around and sees the boy himself, in all his dark-haired, dark-clothed, dark-mouthed glory, clutching a library book in one hand--her library book--and a fist of air in the other. He looks as furious as she is, nose all swollen and eyes narrowed into slits that, whether she wants to admit it or not, are as mesmerizing as they are intimidating. 

His first step towards her is tentative and so unlike him that she doesn’t even take a step back. It is like he is nervous, almost, and Rey is about to convince herself that maybe she should take it easy on him, maybe she should apologize, because their arguments and fights had never crossed that physical boundary before and maybe she’d taken everything too far. But then she sees his clenched fist trembling, and she realizes that it is anger beyond the likes of what she has seen from him that causes this animalistic prowl to look hesitant. He is not doubtful; he’s just simply trying to peacock her into submission.  
Rounding around his body, she intends fully to run again, but his arm shoots out and rounds her wrist tightly, and it is hard to ignore those lines of electricity pumping through her blood when he tugs her back.

“I didn’t realize we were getting physical,” Kylo says in a murmuring voice, one that would normally be hard to hear but which rebounds off the walls of the bookshelves as loudly as it would in a microphone.

“I…” But Rey’s mouth is not working, something is clogging her throat and making it so she cannot speak, something invisible that claws panic, and she is about to accuse Kylo of murder until that voice in her head, the one that is her but not quite, offers a reminder that this is what happens when you’re nervous. She’s rendered speechless because of her own traitorous body, not because of him.

“This is a first.” He is musing, black eyes fixated on their touching skin. “I don’t think you’ve ever not responded to me, not even that first time we fought over whether or not the goal I shot on you was fair.”

“It wasn’t,” she spits after another second of tangible panic. She musters up the strength to wrench her wrist back, and Kylo doesn’t protest, just chooses to continue staring at the hand that was touching her.

She’s walking away, astounded and confused and still completely and utterly furious when he raises his voice, just slightly, to call at her. “We’ll continue this tonight.”

She’s not sure what this is, but Rey finds assurance that it will certainly not continue.

***

“Rey!” Rose is shouting to her friend from across the soccer field, face pink with heat as she half-heartedly runs to meet her. “Finn texted, there’s a victory celebration at his place.”

Rey doesn’t particularly feel like celebrating the girls’ win against their rival team--even if she does feel relieved and elated that Phasma, the opposing team’s goalie and captain, had been frustrated enough to throw her water bottle on the ground hard enough to shatter--but she knows she’ll never hear the end of it if she doesn’t at least make an appearance. And besides, the boys’ team doesn’t throw parties for every girls’ team win, anyway, there would be too many of them if they did.

“I’ll stop by,” Rey concedes without much of a fight. Rose is about to light up and drone on about how much fun it’ll be, but Rey interrupts her quickly. “But if I catch even one whiff of Kylo, I’m leaving.”

“Deal. And you know Finn and Poe will keep him away, they always do.”

Sure, Rey thinks. But Kylo normally avoids her at parties, too, so there isn’t much to protect her from. After this afternoon, though… well, Rey isn’t so sure Kylo will be hiding.

She wishes she’d changed out of her soccer gear before starting the trek to Finn’s house; long socks and grass-stained shorts and sweaty, dripping jerseys aren’t the best party attire, and she isn’t really looking forward to being stuck in this outfit the entire night. Really, come to think of it, she isn’t entirely sure why she agreed to this at all anymore. It was a Friday night, and she had the entire weekend to lounge about, so really the night should be spent finishing up her flashcards for chemistry, so that she could put herself at an advantage over Kylo. 

These thoughts blink through her head on a loop and now she isn’t so sure why she’s still walking at all; it isn’t too late to turn back, anyway. Maybe there is some unforeseen force that drags her feet down the blocks of sidewalk with Rose at her side and the rest of the girls’ team in front of her, because it sure as hell isn’t enthusiasm motivating her walk.

She can’t possibly want to see Kylo Ren, can she?

Shoving that inexplicable lapse of judgment out of her head as quickly as it came, Rey shakes her head and snorts, ignoring Rose’s questioning expression.

Rey is the last to enter Finn’s house. Music vibrates the shoes on her feet and all she wants to do now is go grab a slice of pizza and settle in on the couch, but she stays on the outskirts, near the door, checking for any signs of Kylo. He is nowhere to be seen, though, and she feels safe approaching the dining room and piling food high onto a plate.

She stiffens when she gets that same feeling from the library, the one that told her something was behind her, watching--but of course she knew that it wasn’t a something, it was a someone, and he was brushing up against her back.

“So,” he whispers in her ear, “how many spanks do you think I should give you for the punch you gave my nose?”

Her food drops on the table and a breadstick tips onto the floor as she spins around, and while she normally would mourn the loss, she is too focused on the creature in front of her. “Fuck you, Ben,” she hisses. There is no hesitation in her voice as she calls him by his real name, and his nostrils flare as much as they can through the swelling.

“Don’t call me that,” he warns, grasping the naked flesh just above her elbow. “Guess you won’t be able to when you’re on your knees with my co--” He is cut off by a knee to the groin.

“I’m not sure where this is coming from, Ben, but I won’t deal with it. Leave. Me. Alone.”  
For a second she forgets her food, but she swoops back in to retrieve her plate, not bothering to cast the boy on the floor another glare, despite the way she had to clench her thighs together at the thought of him finishing his sentence.

***

Rey is settled back in her natural habitat, leaning on the couch of her living room floor with an assortment of color-coded index cards strewn out in front of her. Grateful to have had an excuse to leave the party, the nerves in her stomach have calmed down since her studying commenced. And she would get the whole night to herself, too, since Rose would definitely not be returning so long as Finn was there.

An entire night of reading and note-taking is just what she needs to get Kylo Ren out of her thoughts, and study she does, until interrupted by a knock at her door. She plans to ignore it, but then her door opens, and she groans.

“Rose, I thought were spending the night at Finn’s!”

“Why would Rose knock on her own door?” The voice that responds is low and grumbling, thunder from miles away, and Rey jumps to her feet instantly.

“What the fuck are you doing, Kylo?” she shouts when his tall figure stoops over the arch of her living room doorway. “Jesus Christ, you seriously don’t have any fucking boundaries, do you?”

He’s staring at her with that same look he had in the library, that mix of anger and something else Rey can’t really place. He’s breathtaking, she realizes, and kids herself into believing that he is only so because he is so stupid, and not because he’s wearing a tight shirt that shows off every inch of muscle he has, or because his hair is endearingly mussed in every direction.

Really, she should have noticed him stalking towards her, and maybe she did and that’s what keeps her frozen in place. He has her picked up and backed against the wall before she can make another sound, wrists pinned above her head by one of his hands.

“God dammit, Rey,” he says in a tone unlike any she’s ever heard from him. It’s huskier, even lower if possible, and it makes her squirm in a desperate attempt to do something--she can’t decide if she wants to get away or wrap her legs around his waist. “It doesn’t matter what you do to me, I can’t get you out of my fucking head.”

And then he’s kissing her, pressing his lips against her shocked mouth, aggressively and softly all at once, the ultimate oxymoron, and it only takes a beat before she’s kissing him back, matching his intensity, granting him greater access. He slips his tongue through her parted teeth and she through his, and they’re battling it out with swords of muscle, and fuck her if that moan he just released wasn’t the sexiest thing she’s ever heard.  
Down her neck he goes, licking and nipping her earlobes in a way that makes Rey shudder. He sucks a mark onto her throat and she can’t even find it in her to swat him away when he does it a second time, and a third, down into her chest. His free hand is stroking her hips underneath her shirt, inching its way higher. He expects to find a bra and hisses when he realizes it’s missing, quick to palm her breast with rough movements.

“Stop, stop,” she says, begs, once his fingers are about to pinch a nipple. He does. He steps back, flushed bright and panting. She doesn’t expect him to apologize but he does. “Don’t… apologize,” she responds. “I just meant I want to move. To my room.” 

It makes no sense, of course it makes no sense, that she would be so quick to let her anger fester into this disgusting display of tension, and she thinks she should stop it altogether before it’s too late, but then he’s picking her up and following her directions to the bedroom through more kisses, and she knows there’s no going back.

He dumps her on the bed and she crawls up, watching while he slips his shirt off to reveal the bumps of his abdomen. It isn’t like she’s never seen his chest before--he went shirtless often on the soccer field--but she wonders how she never drooled over them.

“I knew you thought I was hot,” he says with a laugh when he catches her staring. She can’t bat him away because he’s lifting her shirt up and attaching his mouth around her bare tit, lapping at her nipple with that same aggression. Her elbows are the only thing grounding her, digging into the bed while the rest of her back and head arches in a moan, and she feels his throat vibrate with a cocky laugh that only intensifies what she feels tenfold. 

It’s embarrassing, the ways she keens for more when Kylo pops his mouth off.

“You never answered my question,” he says. 

“What question?” She forces herself to gain control, and refuses to pant like he is.

“How many spanks you deserve.”

She makes a sound of what she hopes is revolt and sits up to argue, but he has her spun onto her stomach and draped over his thighs so quickly she feels dizzy. “I’ll ask one more time,” he whispers, pulling her pants down. “How many?”

If she weren’t so painfully turned on right now she’d hit him, and he’s well aware of this, so she has no choice but to respond with a meek, “Three?”

“If that’s what you think you deserve, let’s double it.” She’s about to protest when he slaps his hand across the cheek of her ass. His fingers offer a little rub before attacking again, and again, and again, until she finally can’t control the panting. Her hips are wriggling in anticipation of the final spank, and it comes with a smack that makes her whimper. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asks, dipping a finger through the folds of her pussy. “No, you liked it, didn’t you, Rey?”

Another pathetic whimper escapes her lips and he sits her up across his lap and attacks her lips again, and this time there is no battle, because he has it all, all of the control, all of her, and she revels in every second of his. She’s grinding against the hardness of his groin, desperate for friction beneath her panties.

“Sit on my face.” He hooks a hand underneath her armpit and lies flat on his back, giving her no time to adjust as he drags her thighs between his face and shakes his head into their apex. Her underwear is soaked and he groans into them, positioning his hands on her hips and pushing her back and forth.

Then they’re ripped off and he moves so fucking fast that Rey can’t do anything but take what he gives her, and she’s on her back, watching him settle into her legs. He stares at her pussy for an ungodly amount of time, taking in its trimmed curls, her wetness glistening like rain. He takes his time, spreading her knees apart wide and pinning them down despite her wiggling. His tongue drags from her shaking thigh to her damp clit, flicking against it for--well, however long it is, it isn’t long enough, and Rey is pulling on his air and moaning and doing everything but begging to come. 

He stops and moves her arms behind her back. “If you move even a little bit I won’t hesitate to tie you, understand?” She nods and he must be satisfied with the response because he’s back between her thighs, licking like she's ice cream, moaning vibrations through her spine.

“Taste fucking amazing, Rey,” he mumbles every so often. He’s shoved two fingers inside of her and they’re not there even five seconds before she’s tensing up and opening her mouth desperately, unable to say anything. The world is gone, it’s dark and scary, but she’s never made herself orgasm as intensely as he is now. She’s still reeling when he slips on his condom and rams himself into her so hard her legs seize. She’ll never ask him to stop, though. It’s too amazing, and she can’t admit defeat--won’t admit defeat.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he’s hissing between teeth, licking spots on her neck. “Dammit, Rey, why haven’t we done this sooner?”

She’s not sure, even, has no answer, because surely their sex is no different than any other, but she knows that’s not the truth because even when she slept with the two boyfriends she’s had she never came like that. That was all Kylo.

No.

“Ben,” she’s moaning, the name slipping through her lips before she has a chance to stop it. She tenses but he doesn’t stop. She gasps when he asks her to say it again, flipping her onto her stomach and wrapping an arm around her hips.

“Please,” he’s begging her. “Again.”

He’s back inside of her with arms long enough to flick her clit again. Even though she’s so sensitive she can’t help but buck and tense around his dick, and he’s moaning her name over and over again, and she figures if he can beg her, she can do the same; after all, this night won’t be repeated, what’s the harm?

So she screams for him, screams his name, “Ben, Ben, Ben!” over and over again. “Please, please, Ben, let me come, let me come again.”

He does, she’s spasming and everything is out of control and then he’s coming too, frozen over her back as he moans and asks her again and again why they haven’t fucked before, why they would ever deny themselves something so fucking electric, so addicting.

He falls on his side and she falls on her stomach, and there’s something awkward hanging in the air, because he won’t stay, right? He’s got to leave, there can’t be pillow talk, and how do you recover from fucking the person you hate most in the world like that? How do you talk to them? What do you even talk about?

It’s like he can read her mind. She thinks he’s about to stroke a tendril of hair off her face, but he just rolls over with a sigh and dresses, and he doesn’t even spare her another glance as he leaves the apartment.

She’s relieved, though, because this is the way it’s supposed to be, and tomorrow they’ll fight again, and they definitely won’t kiss, or fuck, or come.

Definitely not.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's still the weekend where I am, barely, so I kept my promise of updating this weekend, I think.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy this trash. Get your rotten bell peppers ready.

Kylo Ren is nothing if not patient, which is why he is currently punching out a bag at the university’s gym in frustration.

He’s been here for the last two hours, working his way up from light hits to the aggressive smacks that make his breath fast and panting. It is to mask the hardness between his thighs, and it just isn’t working. Nothing he does can rid him of the arousal he feels, that he’s felt since last night. 

It wasn’t supposed to happen like that, he thinks. 

It was always supposed to happen, of course. This hating relationship he had with Rey, it was meant to end up in that place, with them on a bed together, happily satisfied and humming. Last night was anything but happy, though, and the anger he feels is not helped by his crushing desire for more.

She had punched him and he’d lost control and he shouldn’t have. He should have let their relationship run its course. He is absolutely furious--with himself, that is.

He wonders if stopping by her room again tonight would be a mistake, and forces himself to push the thought out of his head. It would be insane, wouldn’t it? For him to expect that, on a Saturday night, she would be home, waiting for him. Then he thinks about her dancing at a club with Finn and Poe at her sides, encouraging boys to ride at her hips, and his wrist slips at the distraction, making a horrible popping sound as the knuckles of his hand slams against his punching bag.

With a groan, he rubs his raw skin against his chest, deciding to call it quits for the morning. His legs do not burn as much as he typically likes them to after a workout, but Kylo senses that there is nothing he can do that will leave him content.

At least, not until he has Rey on her back with that screwed up face she made last night as he coaxed her through an orgasm. Maybe the next time he’ll have her ride him instead, so that he can get a better look at her stunning expression, and the thought of there being a next time at all goes straight to his cock. The morning, clearly, hasn’t been productive; if it was meant to rid him of this horny tension, it very well failed, and he thinks that a cold shower will not help, either.

He walks past the window of the weight room to find it mostly empty, which is no surprise considering it is a three-day weekend and most everyone at school is either nursing a hangover or else home with their families. It surprises him, though perhaps it shouldn’t since he has always been aware that Rey works in the gym nearly every morning, to see her in the weight room with her head resting on her knuckles, looking bored at the cluttered desk she’s sitting at.

There is a voice in his head that tells him to turn around, to run, but it is not as strong as that blood in his nether regions. He walks into the room silently, but Rey perks up with the sudden awareness that she is no longer alone.

When she sees that it’s him, though, the piqued interest of her face falls into a livid scowl, and Kylo wants nothing more but to kiss it into oblivion.

He wonders where that sentiment came from, though; he’s never wanted to simply kiss her, it’s always been accompanied by a desire to hear her scream his name--this time, it’ll be Kylo coming out of her mouth, not Ben--and his head shakes, as though to rattle the domesticity of mere kissing out of his ears.

“What are you doing here?” Rey is the first to break the silence when she realizes that all he’s going to do is stare. If the slight flush rising up her chest and into her cheeks has anything to say, she’s fighting the urge to rip his clothes off as much as he is.

Kylo bites his upper lip, practically gnaws on it, until he feels a blister form beneath his tongue. Only then is he able to speak and keep his cool. “Thought I’d come lift some weights,” he says, acknowledging the deepened look of anger on Rey’s face with a smirk of his own. 

His lips do this tilting thing on their own, he’s had his lopsided grin since he was a baby; his mother says it’s a spitting image of his father’s, and though he sees where she’s coming from, Kylo wishes that wasn’t the case. But in moments like these, where this firecracker of a girl--woman--encourages him to embody reckless and personify cocky, he is grateful for his genes.

And so Kylo Ren, despite the ache in his arms, goes around the room and pointedly ignores Rey’s stare, even though it makes pins prick on his neck. He picks up each weight, one by one, regardless of how much they actually weigh, lifts them up, and places it on the ground instead of back on their original racks.

As his circle ends, he makes sure to put the heaviest weights furthest away from their racks. Then he shoots Rey a knowing look, offers that tight-lipped smile of his, and waves from the window once he’s outside the room. She’s shaking, he can see that even from here. He hopes, deep down, that she’ll run after him, but he knows she won’t, and maybe that’s all for the best: he wouldn’t last long enough if she did, anyway.

***

He’s eating a sandwich in the food court on campus when she storms in.

He can’t help but think how stunning she looks--no, God dammit, not stunning.

He can’t help but think how hot she looks, all fired up. Her hair is a complete mess, wisping around her face in a way that only frames her wild eyes, blazing and deep and completely terrifying, though of course, they aren’t terrifying to Kylo.

He is never scared of anything, least of all a woman who nearly broke his nose.

She is so mesmerizing, though, that he doesn’t dare think about how she possibly could have found him on a Saturday without knowing his standard routine, but it's too late and now the thought of her being aware of his habits--he is, afterall, a creature of habits if nothing else--makes his heart stutter in a way that it never has before. It makes his throat close, and he feels as though he is choking for a moment, and he cannot even find it in him to focus on the words she’s screaming at him until a flash of cold is splashed over his head, and his hair drips into eyes, down into his shirt.

“What the fuck?” he manages to sputter in his disarray.

“Where the fuck do you get off?” she asks him in a low voice. He is aware of every single set of eyes on the pair of them, but cannot be bothered to actually care. “You know I have to pick up every single one of those weights that you leave out, it was fucking hell and my arms fucking hurt and you are such a fucking dickwad, a dickwad of a fucking shitty fucking dick.”

The words go in one ear and out the other but he gets the gist, and then the grin is spreading over his entire face. “I thought you could use the exercise,” he says, and even though he regrets the words because it makes her eyes go dull for just a second and he hates to be the one to think that he could’ve burned out her glory, there is no way he can possibly soften up with her now. She would never believe it.

“You’re an asshole,” she mutters before spinning away, but she adds over her shoulder, “and you’re fucking tiny, too!”

That does it. His elbow slips off the table in surprise, but not because of the insult; she leaves a dozen-and-a-half pairs of eyes on him, and all of them are now aware of their sexual history.

His best friend, Hux, is one of them. He drops his water on the ground as he and Kylo make eye contact, and behind him, Poe Dameron stands, mouth agape.

Kylo leaves before either of them can interrogate him.

He manages to catch up with her after running at a full sprint; she’s fast but he’s got the advantage, long, gangly legs and all. He would mention his feet, but she seems to be well aware of how large they are. She wouldn’t have lied about his dick size if she wasn’t.

“You know you just told fucking Poe that we slept together?” he yells at her before managing to jog ahead, forcing her to stop.

“I did no such thing, he’s at the pool.” The pure indignancy in her voice was enough to bring Kylo’s inexplicable sudden amusement to a halt. Now he is as angry with her as he has ever been; she is not correct and he can’t wait to watch her face fall.

“He is not, he was about to eat a sandwich with me, and if you hadn’t barged into the public cafeteria screaming you would have noticed.”

Rey isn’t used to being surprise, that much is obvious by the way her face pales. “I… I didn’t mean to, I just… it… you make me so angry, and…”

“Yeah, you’re no walk in the park either, princess.” Princess, he nearly scoffs at his use of the word because it’s absolutely something his dumb dad would say and he prides himself on being nothing like his dad.

Rey drives him to it.

They stand at an impasse with chests nearly touching on a sidewalk that is as abandoned as any can be on a Saturday at their university. She is heaving breaths like she’s out of it and he can’t help that his eyes are drawn to the shadows underneath her shirt. 

“Why did you do it?” she says in a voice that is close to a whisper. His eyes flick up to hers and he’s so relieved to see that her fire has not dampened, it has only morphed into something that is more…

Not. Beautiful.

No.

“Do what?” he asks, matching her tone.

“You know what.” Her voice is strengthening now, and her stature reflects the change. Shoulders straightened to grow up to his chest, Kylo is overwhelmed by her warmth.

“You know why,” he counters. He has to whisper to avoid an embarrassing voice crack, and closes the distance between them to meet her lips. She doesn’t necessarily kiss him back; it’s more passive than that, and her lack of participation is shooting daggers into his stomach, so he pulls away, defeated.

“My house again,” Rey says, just before he turns around to leave. He looks back at her, fully aware that his face is full of a kind of wonder that shouldn’t ever cross him. “Tonight.”  


She’s gone and he’s smiling.

***

Rose isn’t home when he approaches Rey’s door. He knows this because Rose’s car is gone from its rightful spot in the driveway, and he stares at the dead grass the car normally sits on for a ridiculous amount of time, mulling over the thoughts in his head from the afternoon.

He wonders what Rey asking him over means, and thought about whether entering her house would spell the end of whatever they’d started.

As much as he wish he wasn’t, Kylo desperately claws onto the hope that this is only the beginning.

And he is well aware that he looks like a clingy stalker, donning black clothing on Rey’s porch, pacing back and forth. He can’t bring himself to care, though, nor can he seem to control his fist well enough to knock it against the door.

Rey opens it for him. “Are you going to stand there all night?” she asks in a teasing lilt that Kylo is quite unused to.

“No,” he says, even though his feet stay rooted to the porch. The only thing that moves him into action is Rey launching herself at him, attaching her lips to his in the amount of time it takes to blink an eye.

She jumps up to wrap her legs around his waist, and he twists a hand underneath her typical hairstyle, a line of three buns tied in a row. Together they walk into her apartment and he slams the door shut with his foot. Against the wall of Rey’s living room, Kylo is convinced that he has never felt as good as he does now, with Rey’s hands exploring the skin under his shirt.

It is through his embarrassing protests that Rey manages to detach herself from his face long enough to slink to her knees. He can’t believe what he’s seeing but she’s unbuckling his pants and pulling them down and his mouth dries uncomfortably when she releases his dick from their boxers, popping like a spring. There is no time to prepare, no teasing, and the delicious warmth of her mouth is enveloping it whole.

“Fuck,” he hisses, and he hates how he’s rendered to curse words when Rey’s body is at his feet. He is forced to fall silent to avoid further humiliation and loosens her hair to wrap both his hands around her head in an attempt to garner the control again. She doesn’t seem to mind because she vibrates a moan onto his cock and he has to think about his mom and dad to stop from coming down her throat. “Rey, you have to stop.”

She refuses and only slides him further; he's convinced he's so far in that he'll hit her stomach. His eyes bulge out of his head. It pains him, but he bucks her head off of him and the look she gives him is one he is determined to burn into his memory.

“No,” he growls, proud of his self control. “If I come it’s going to be inside of you.”

She follows him as he prowls her onto the couch, and it only takes a second for her pants to rip off with the help of his fingertips. There is no time for teasing, he realizes as she squirms around his gaze, but he can’t go through this night without tasting her, especially since it may be his last time, so he latches his lips around her clit with a precision he didn’t know he possessed. He flicks his tongue from side to side and rubs his face in as softly as he can--he knows women don’t really appreciate roughness when it comes to oral--and she cants her hips upwards, on the cusp of an orgasm when he stops.

“Why’d you stop?” she asks, breathless. Seeing the blush on her cheeks, rosy and arousing, is answer enough for him.

“I want to watch you,” he murmurs as he crawls up her body, dragging his lips across her pebbled nipples hidden underneath a thin tank top. He rolls them over so that her naked cunt is rubbing against his cock. “Condom,” he reminds himself.

“No time,” she pants out. “IUD. You’re clean?” He nods and she slips him inside of her quickly and a gasping moan slips out of his lips before he can stop it.

Then she’s bouncing on his cock with her head thrown back and her little tits are too, and it’s really a sight to behold, this angelic creature with the voice of a siren whispering about how big his cock is, how he fills her up, how she hates that she loves it. 

“What’s my name, Rey?” he manages to grouse out as his orgasm begins to blossom, but then he remembers that she needs to come, too, and once again he’s thinking about his mother and father to stem his release.

The cogs are turning in her head, he can tell by the way she looks at him with a new determination, like she’s trying to tell if he’s bluffing or not. But his thumb rubs circles around her clit a moment later and she shouts with no reservation, “Kylo.”

It’s what he wanted, at least at first, but now it sounds wrong coming out of her mouth, so he shakes his head and his hand retreats, and she gets the gist because she changes course. “Ben,” she moans at the top of her lungs. He returns his thumb to its rightful place, and she combusts before his eyes, a picture of perfection. Her mouth molds into an O, her eyes shut in peaceful resignation, eyebrows furrowed and raised up into her forehead, it’s all he needs to bring him to the edge, and he’s coming inside of her and shaking and he’s never felt so incredible in his entire life.  


There’s no use denying it now, not when she’s lying on his chest with his come dripping down her thighs and onto him.

She is beautiful.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so sorry this took so long to complete. Life got in the way, the semester is nearing the end, I could list excuses but I know it doesn't matter.
> 
> I hate lima beans, so I think that's sufficient punishment enough (fucking pelt me with them): Get your rotten lima beans ready.
> 
> Also let me know what you'd like to see in the next fic--think I'm gonna shoot for a really long one-shot, this time.

They don’t see each other for three days, but whether this is due to intentional avoidance or just a culmination of shame and embarrassment is less clear. 

Rey only knows that the looks Poe and Finn keep shooting her from across the table of the dining room are making her stomach churn. It’s like they can see through her soul--a profoundly uncomfortable analogy considering she does not want anyone to know about the kinds of depraved fantasies that have been running on a treadmill in her head--and so she casts her head down and focuses instead on shoving spoonfuls of rice into her mouth.

The question is coming, though. She can feel it pulsing in her veins, throbbing in her bones, the inevitable interrogation regarding that stand-down with Kylo Ren--and the ensuing words that came out of her mouth: “And you’re fucking tiny, too.”

So really, it’s no surprise that Poe is the first one to speak, a mortified Finn, clearly as humiliated by the question as Rey is, looking placid at his politely curled fingers.

“So, my dear Rey,” Poe begins in that voice, the one meant to be both comforting and authoritative. His last year spent as a TA has taught him the nuances of these kinds of conversations. “I think we’ve avoided the conversation long enough, but… What’s going on with you and Kylo?”

A sigh, that’s all that she manages to muster up, but it was a dramatic one, completed with a flourish of her entire chest. 

“It’d be nice if you told us,” Finn manages to speak up in a meek tone. “I mean, I thought we were best friends.”

It’s a low blow, all three of them know this, but a fair one, too. Rey has never kept a secret from Finn and Poe and Rose; even not-so-secret secrets, like this one, have to come out eventually. “We slept together.”

“As in…” Poe gestures for her to continue, a disgustingly smug grin on his face despite the circumstances. 

Rey finds herself shooting him an exasperated face, but continuing nonetheless. “Three times. Once on the couch, twice in my bed. He made me come so many times I couldn’t see straight. We haven’t spent the whole night together, though, but I guess…” Does she dare voice these thoughts? “I guess I wouldn’t mind it if we did.” She does dare, it would seem.

It is so true, so God damn true it hurts. So she adds, at the last possible second after a hesitation just short enough to make it seem as though it isn’t an afterthought, “Because waking up to an orgasm like the ones he gives me would be more potent than five shots of espresso.”

Finn looks unconvinced; he’s always been the more emotionally adept of the four of them, and can read Rey’s--what is it he calls it, again? Aura?--like nobody’s business. Rey meets his eye and can tell right away that he sees right through her sad lie, but her shoulders slump in relief when he makes no note of this aloud to Poe.

“Who knew Kylo fuckin Ren had it in him!” Poe says, slapping a hand on the table. “You know he’s been just pining at you for months, it’s really quite sad, everyone on our team knew--” He catches a glimpse of Rey’s face. It must be full of either horror or the kind of shock one feels after getting their heart paddled with electricity, because his jaw goes slack and his eyes glaze over in a guilty sort of way. “I’m sorry--fuck, I thought you knew.”

“Knew what?” Rey manages to croak out. She’s convinced her eyes are bugging out of her head.

“Nothing,” Finn interjects, glaring at Poe. “It’s not for us to tell.”

So Rey leaves her apartment, rice abandoned, even though she never in a million years would have pictured herself abandoning food at all, and hightails it for Kylo’s apartment.

***

“You’re fucking her.” Hux’s question is not really framed as a question at all, more a fact with the tiniest bit of inflection on the end. 

“I fucked her,” Kylo says. “Emphasis on the ed. We’re done now, I’m sure.”

“You can’t possibly believe that, can you?” 

“Why wouldn’t I believe that? She said we we're done, I said we we're done. We can’t even stand each other.”

“Everyone knows that’s a fucking lie.” Hux has a look on his face, vicious and dangerous, murderous even. Which is understandable, considering he’s listened to Kylo’s drunk drabbles about Rey’s unstoppable hair and beautiful soccer technique nearly every weekend for the last semester and a half. It’s annoying, though, because Kylo conveniently forgets his rants--that’s really what they were, too aggressive to be love letters read aloud, and more the kind of speech a tyrant may proclaim toward his starving people.

“I got my fill of her,” Kylo denies stubbornly. “And she got her fill of me.” He waggles an eyebrow, you know, for good measure.

“That’s gross,” Hux says with a wrinkled nose. Then his eyes widen a little. “Looks like she didn’t get her fill, after all. Not as attentive as you think, huh?”  
Kylo swivels around to face the same direction as Hux, spotting Rey through the window of their front door. She looks cold, her face all red. She isn’t even wearing a jacket, he notes, as though she…

He won’t let himself think it, not really. She would never run to his apartment without a jacket for him. Logical explanations only, so she must have… left… nothing here, of course, because she’s never been here. 

So then why is she here? 

“That’s my cue to leave,” Hux says. He spins around on a heel and tiptoes into his bedroom at the end of the hall in that annoying way he does, the one that makes Kylo’s fists clench--at least it usually does, but this time he cannot pay any attention to the matter, because Rey sees him through the door finally and he has to open it before she gets frostbite and dies because of his own inability to get ahold of his testosterone levels, which render him a simpleton at the mere sight of this fucking amazing woman.

Realizing that leaving her outside was not a valid option, Kylo scrambled to the door and turned his knob after two failed attempts--his palms were really sweaty, like a fucking waterfall, honestly it was disgusting and why would she ever want to--

She’s inside and touching those sweaty hands of his with a look that isn’t disgusted at all. Kylo’s heart swells involuntarily at the sight of her doe eyes, large and round and starry.

“Poe--” she’s out of breath--”Poe told me that… that you’ve… wanted--” through one final pant she manages to say it all, “Poe told me that you’ve wanted this for months.” She points a finger between the two of them, takes another breath, and continues talking at the speed of light. “But I can’t fathom why you’d want that, me, you know, because I’m an orphan and you’re this stupid wealthy might-as-well-be a model athlete who’s also really fucking smart with amazing parents and--”

“My parents aren’t amazing.”

“Maybe not to you.”

“You’re amazing.” He says it so genuinely and Rey can’t look at him anymore. It’s too honest. Sincere. Too intimate.

“Maybe to you.”

“I don’t care that you’re an orphan, didn’t realize this was the Great Depression.” That boosts her up enough to catch his eye again. Kylo laces a hand into the hair at the nape of her neck.

“I do love roasted corn and buggies.”

“I like your accent.”

“I like you.”

“I like you, too.”

“I never hated you.” It’s true. Rey never did hate him, not really. What an easy out, honestly. Sleep with your enemy and all kinds of feelings can bubble up to the surface.

“I never hated you either.”

And then his lips are on hers, but only for a fraction of a second. “We could… we could go on a date, or watch a movie here…” Kylo’s words are meek but he means them.

“Or we could have sex.” Rey means them, too. “I can’t stop thinking about your tongue.”

“Fine,” he says, lifting himself up fully. “But then we’re going on a date.”

“Fine.” Crossing her arms, Rey cocks her head up at him. “So, your room, then?”

Hux can totally hear them ripping their clothes off through the thin wall of Kylo’s bedroom. Rey is dropped onto his bed quickly, shirt discarded to the side, braless. He’s looking at her like he’s never seen anything so stunning in his life. He probably hasn’t, he admits to himself.

“You came braless?”

“Ran all the way here in my pajamas,” she says. He groans and dips his head into her chest, tracing lazy circles around her nipples with his tongue before realizing it’ll never be enough to tease her; he offers two sucks, probably ones that are a little too aggressive, before she’s racing to undress him.

“I’m gonna make you come so much, Rey,” he whispers, shimmying his body down so that his face is positioned at the tops of her thighs. He offers a couple of dry kisses before she whines, and God dammit, if that sound didn’t do things to his brain. His tongue clouts the tip of her clit--can he do nothing gently?--but clearly she doesn’t mind, because her hips jut up into the air, defying gravity, and there’s that groan again, high pitched and erotic as ever. “Do you want to come?”

“Please, please, please,” she’s whispering with her hands rubbing circles in the hair by his ears. “Please, Ben.”

He can’t say no to her, how can he? So he doubles down and spreads the lips of her pussy out wide to get a good look at the hardened nub of her clit, evaluating the best angle to go at, before leaning down and flicking. He rubs his face in, she liked that four nights ago in her bed, and now he’s got the slightest bit of stubble creating friction against the opening of her vagina in a way that itches so incredibly that she combusts within seconds of his new ministrations.

“Fuck,” she shouts. It’s too much, all of it honestly, she can’t help the single tear that drips down her face as she bucks around his head, and she wipes it away quickly, but not before he catches a glimpse. His face softens, glistening around his mouth and chin, when he lifts up to press a kiss against her lips.

“Don’t be afraid,” he says, low and husky. “I feel it too.” 

“Fuck.” It’s a whisper that comes out of her mouth this time. “I need you, please.”

He aligns himself with her and she guides his cock inside of her, arching up against her will when he brushed against the sensitive area of her clit again. He splits her in two and patches her all up with every thrust he makes--there is something invariably more intimate about this position, the fact that they can look right at each other with no barrier shoots shivers up their spines in a way that makes it clear they’re operating on the same wavelength. But he does it again and again, uncaring, and threads his fingers with hers as they alternating betweens moans and whimpers and whines. It doesn’t last as long as they wish it could, but there’s no need to say that there’ll be a round two, maybe even a three or four, before the sun rises the next day.

“I really like you,” he says to her once they’re cleaned up. “Please don’t go.”

The way he looks at her, like she’s the sun and everything in his world rotates around her; how can she possibly say no to someone who looks at her like that? When no one ever has looked at her like that? When Ben is the only one she even wants to look at her like that?

“Never,” she whispers, curling around him in a blanket. “Ben.”

Rey is positively content, and even that may be an understatement.


End file.
